


PBS Documentary Bloopers: The Aztec Temple

by shefrommo



Series: I'm no longer in Creative Writing classes, so I can post these now [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A story originally written for my Creative Writing classes, And other awful things done in conjunction to that, Gen, Just an unusual day filming a PBS documentary, No reporters or cameramen were harmed in the making of this fic, Originally written on 2/16/20, Warnings for mentions of human sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24887059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shefrommo/pseuds/shefrommo
Summary: Reporter Kisha Donovan and her cameraman Liam Potter set out to film a PBS documentary on an Aztec temple. While they take a tour courtesy of the on-site archeologist, the lady watching the live feed gets a surprise.
Relationships: Amelie Dupont & Lisbeth Warner, Kisha Donovan & Liam Potter, Liam Potter/Amelie Dupont
Series: I'm no longer in Creative Writing classes, so I can post these now [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800808
Kudos: 1





	PBS Documentary Bloopers: The Aztec Temple

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this!

The world is dark and silent and empty until it abruptly isn’t—all it takes is a press of a button and both color and sound flood into being. The scenery jostles as someone just out of view asks, “You alright there, Liam?”

Behind and up a bit, another voice answers, “Yeah. I almost dropped the camera, that’s all. It’s fine, though.”

The first speaker comes into view, though she doesn’t move—Liam has raised the camera to focus on her. She smiles, tucking some of her curly blond hair out of the way in an absent gesture and asks, “Is the camera on?”

“Yeah. We’re good to go, Kisha.”

“Good!” Kisha turns to look at the third person, sitting on the massive stone staircase behind her. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, showcasing tattoo sleeves consisting solely of scales. They have somehow been colored to give a mildly iridescent effect. “You ready?”

“I thought this show started when the camera started rolling,” the other man says, “but, sure, I’m ready. How do you want to do this? I’ve never been on camera before.”

“Oh, just follow our lead,” Kisha says. She approaches the third man, as do Liam and the camera. “This footage will be edited after we finish the shoot, so say whatever you want, so long as it’s not inappropriate. This is a PBS documentary, so don’t go swearing all over the place! And no obscene gestures, please. Those are a bit harder to edit out.”

“Gotcha. Keep it PG,” the man nods. Kisha turns to the camera.

“Hello, viewers, I’m Kisha Donovan, and I’ll be the leading reporter for this documentary on the Aztec Empire. I’m with Mr. Seth Bastion, who will be taking us around this Aztec temple. Behind us you see the temple steps. He’s an archeologist working this site. Mr. Bastion, what do you have to say about this site?”

Seth looks faintly startled at being addressed so suddenly, but he recovers quickly and flashes a smile at the camera. His teeth are slightly yellow. “Well, this is, all things considered, a fairly small and out of the way temple. There’s not much interest in it archaeologically, especially in comparison to the larger sites like Machu Picchu or Ahu Tongariki. The temple consists, as you can see—”

Seth waves a hand at the stone staircase. It is a straight walk up to the top, and on either side of the ramp-like staircase are the vertical walls. At the peak, the staircase ends abruptly at the base of a short, squat structure that looks rather like a hovel. It is a strikingly dark grey against the clear blue of the sky. He licks his lips and continues, “—of a square-based pyramid, with each side having a staircase to the top equidistant from the corners of the base. At the top of the staircase is the temple proper, where ceremonies and ritual sacrifice took place.”

The three begin to ascend the staircase as Kisha says, “We don’t need footage of us walking up one thousand steps, so this next part will be cut when we edit. Do you mind me asking some questions while we walk?”

“Oh, no problem,” Seth looks at her. It may be a trick of the light, but somehow, he gives the impression of having blinked even though his eyelids have not moved.

“Where are you coworkers? I would have expected there to be more people wandering around here,” Kisha says.

“Oh, you came on an off-day, actually. We don’t spend all of our time digging around in the ruins, you know.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any equipment,” Liam’s disembodied voice speaks up. He sounds slightly out of breath from the climb. The view dips to show only the three’s feet as they walk up a series of steps only identifiable as different from each other by the different cracks and chips.

“That’s all out back,” Seth says. “There’s not much, since, as I said earlier, this isn’t a big or important site to be working on. In addition, the rainy season ended not too long ago, and we didn’t want any of the equipment to be—pardon the pun—ruined, so what little has been shipped back here is still covered up.”

Seth pauses for a moment, then adds, “Personally, I think you guys came at just the right time. There’s not a lot of noise, and nobody to trip over. I’ve got to admit, that’s my favorite part of the weekend—I’m a loner, and I only like people when I have them over for dinner.”

“I didn’t know that the rainy season lasted so long,” Kisha said, then clarified, “It just seems so late in the year for a rainy season. When I think of a rainy season, it’s in early spring or maybe late autumn. We’re in the height of summer right now.”

“Well, this is a rainforest. The rainy season is more or less all year here, but some periods, like the one I was referring to, experience heavier rainfall than usual,” Seth explained.

There’s a quiet moment as they arrive at the top of the staircase. Only the ground can be seen, but Kisha and Liam’s heavy breathing can be clearly heard. From somewhere off to the side, Seth asks, “Do you need a moment? You two sound like you’re dying.”

“Just a moment, yes,” Kisha says. “This part definitely needs to be cut.”

“Man, you are in great shape,” Liam says, “you’re not even breathing hard or sweating.”

“I also climb staircases like this for a living,” Seth says dryly, “I wouldn’t be of much help if I collapsed into a heaving, exhausted puddle every time I needed to visit the temple proper.”

“Fair enough,” Liam mutters, then takes one last gulp of air before straightening. The surroundings blur nauseatingly at the sudden motion but settle to show Seth standing in the doorway to the little hovel. This close, the tiny temple at the top of the pyramid doesn’t seem so tiny.

“Ready?” Seth asks.

“I think so,” Kisha looks at something unseen behind the camera. 

“I’m guessing this is my cue to shut up and pretend I’m not here, then,” Liam jokes, before falling silent as the view jostles once more and focuses on Kisha and Seth.

“We appreciate your sacrifice,” Kisha says, and follows Seth into the temple.

It’s dark and the flashlights skim the walls, occasionally dipping into deep pits in the walls. Seth keeps the three of them on the main hallway, and explains, “Some of the other pathways you see lead to rooms, and others lead to more staircases which lead to the lower floors. The lower floors we’ll visit after we see the altar room. Unfortunately, there’s not much to see up here until we get to there.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect,” Kisha assures him. “By the way—we’ll have to edit out this part later—but is anybody else reminded of that scene from Indiana Jones, with the boulder in the hallway?”

“Yes,” Liam mutters at the same time that Seth says, “No.”

After a moment, he clarifies, “I hear that a lot, but I’ve never seen the movies. Considering that I live in a creepy old temple, watching a movie about a creepy old temple filled with booby traps is just asking to spend the rest of my time here looking over my shoulder, waiting for the boulder to drop.”

“You mean, work in a creepy old temple?” Liam asks.

“When you spend as much time here as I do, it feels more like living than working. I’m not sure what that says about my work ethic, but there you go,” Seth makes a what-can-you-do gesture. Unlike the hallways, the motion is clearly visible in the dark. His shirt is very white. “My sister says that I have no life outside of this place. She’s probably not wrong.” He turns around and the strange sound of him licking his lips echoes unnervingly. “I think we’re almost to the altar room.”

“Oh, really?” Kisha says, and the sound of her heels against the stone picks up its pace. “I can’t see the passage lightening up any. I guess working here for so long has given you a good idea of when we’re almost there?” 

“Sort of,” Seth says, revulsion audible in his voice, “You’ll notice it in a second. There’s no windows, and ergo, no natural light in there. For obvious reasons, we’re adverse to lighting a candle or anything to brighten it in there, so there’s no light aside from what we’re bringing in with us. Because of that, the passage doesn’t lighten up as we get closer, but you’ll notice the other indicator that we’re getting close soon.”

“Candles?” Liam repeats, startled. “Why candles? Why not floodlights or something else?”

“Rainy season just ended,” Seth reminds them. “Not all the equipment has been transferred back here, and the return of the lights is a recent development. Besides, taking the floodlights and generators for them requires several people to slowly haul them up the staircase out there. It’s not like we have a convenient elevator or escalator to ferry stuff around for us.”

Kisha’s shape, barely visible in the darkness, recoils abruptly. “My _god_ , what is that smell?”

“That,” Seth says dryly, “is the reason why I knew we were getting close. The altar room reeks, and if you spend enough time around it, you learn to pick it up quicker. Contrary to what I wish would happen, you don’t go nose-blind to the stink, you just learn to distinguish when you’re leaving behind perfectly good if slightly musty air for the smell of rot and old blood.”

“It’s been a few thousand years since the temple was inhabited, what could possibly reek so badly even now?” Kisha asks. Her voice is muffled and pitched strangely, as though she had pinched her nose.

“The Aztec practiced human sacrifice. The smell of it has likely sunk into the stone, like the smell of mildew in clothes left in the wash too long."

“How disgusting,” Kisha mutters.

“I find that it helps to breathe through the mouth. Filters out some of the smell,” Seth offers sympathetically.

“I’ll try that, thanks.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.”

The flashlights bounce off into darkness, where they are quickly swallowed. The walls have vanished, and there are no windows, as Seth promised.

“God, what I wouldn’t give for an air freshener,” Liam says.

“There are no outlets here to plug one in, and like I said earlier, lighting a scented candle would be inviting smoke inhalation. You’ll just have to deal with it.” Seth says. “But here, come around the side of the room. You might be able to get some good shots of the wall murals.”

The beams from the flashlights fall on a series of large, intricate murals. “What are these?” Kisha asks sounding fascinated. She reaches out to trace a few lines, and her pale hand seems to glow as it enters the circle of light. 

“The Aztec sacrificed people to their gods. The murals depict the god that this particular temple worshipped,” Seth explains. “Although, it might interest you to know that the god depicted here is unknown. It’s clearly a serpentine god, as you can see from the twisting, decidedly non-human shape, but it doesn’t match any known artwork of Quetzalcoatl.”

“How can you tell that it’s not Quetzalcoatl?” Kisha asks.

“There’s no feathers or wings, for one. Quetzalcoatl is a winged serpent goddess, so the lack of wings or feathers gives it away.”

“Pardon my ignorance, but I was under the impression that Quetzalcoatl was a god, not a goddess.”

The sound of Seth licking his lips again echoes in the room. He has stepped away from the camera’s focus, so the noise seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Most people do. It’s a common misconception. Visually speaking, there’s not a lot that distinguishes male snakes from female snakes, and that’s even harder to convey through two-dimensional drawings.” The quiet thump of his feet on stone indicates that he’s walking away. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the altar. It’s just over here.”

Kisha follows him, and after a minute or two, a large stone slab fades out of the dark. Soon after, the flashlight is pointed at it. Dark stains are faintly visible on the surface. Kisha seems to be taking shallow breaths. 

“Obviously, this is where the sacrifices took place. The sacrifices would be put on this altar and then a priest would say a few words, usually a prayer to the gods asking for a favor or—Ms. Donavan, are you alright? You look rather pale.” Seth sounds concern.

“I’m fine,” Kisha says, sounding rather strangled. “It’s just—the smell is even worse here.”

“Well, yes, we are right next to the altar, where people would be sacrificed. In addition to that—do you know what they would do with the bodies after the sacrifice?” Seth asks, and starts walking around the corner of the altar. His torso is ghostly white in the light, but his dark pants blend in unnervingly well and make it look as though his upper half is floating away.

“No,” Kisha admits, “I always thought they would—actually, I’ve never thought about what they did with the bodies. Bury them, perhaps?”

“In a mass grave that was never covered, yes,” Seth confirms. “Watch your step here.” The white beam of his arm stops Kisha before she could walk over the edge of a previously unseen pit. “This pit goes down an estimated thirty feet and holds all of the previous victims. Anybody who miraculously survived being sacrificed would die from the fall. If you look closely, you can still see the human remains inside.”

Kisha shines her light into the pit and deep in it, the skeletons become visible. “That’s a lot of skeletons,” she murmurs. “Have you been removing them? Or have they been here the whole time?”

“That depends on what you mean by the whole time, Miss Donovan.” Seth says calmly. His pale disembodied torso slides to her side. “If you mean that they’ve been here since the temple’s founding, then no. If you mean that the skeletons you see before you have been here since this temple was rediscovered, then no. We are not certain just how deep the pit goes and haven’t yet discovered a path to the pit on any of the lower floors. This makes it difficult to remove the skeletons from the pit.”

Seth waves an arm, and continues, “If we try to drop a ladder in there, who knows how far it’d fall. If we try to climb down there, how, then, are we supposed to get back up while carrying all those bones? If we could find a path to the pit in the lower floors and open a door to it, then perhaps we could slowly remove the remains starting from those that are at the bottom of the pile, but that would run the risk of causing the whole thing to collapse and further damage the bones.” His arms fold behind his back. His hands, much darker than his shirt, look like craters punched through the backdrop of white.

“I see,” Kisha muses. “That makes removal of the skeletons difficult. But it also makes it even more important that you excavate the lower floors.”

“Precisely so,” Seth says, and his teeth, somehow, manage to look yellower than they had in broad daylight. He drifts closer, looking ghostly in the gloom. Then he passes, just to the side, and glides out of view. “Follow me, and I will show you to the lower floors. The excavation is going quite well.”

The quiet thump of feet on stone echoes as beams of light trace a slow path to the room’s entrance. Soon, the swallowing dark of the altar room vanishes in favor of the barely visible walls of the hallway. The stone cage of them seems to close in after the wide-open maw of the room.

One of the flashlights trails along the left wall. One hallway is passed, then another. At the third, Seth’s pale shape abruptly vanishes to the right.

Kisha yelps, and her flashlight spins from the left wall to the right. A dark crevasse gapes. “I guess we turn here,” she says, and the passage seems to advance as they enter.

The white shape of Seth’s torso has vanished entirely, however. 

The faint shape of Kisha slows. “Mr. Bastion?” she calls uncertainly. “We seem to have lost sight of you. We’re not far from the main hallway, we can wait for you there.”

There is no advance back to the main hallway, no retreat of the dark passage. There is only a sudden meaty thump and a lurch into the abyss. Freefall does not last long, the descent soon aborted, but neither does the ground come quickly.

Instead, two spiraling spotlights illuminate, by turns, the descending walls, the jutting ledge of stairs, and flail of limbs. Twin screams ring out and are silenced. The passage echoes with the sound of Kisha and Liam’s shrieks, mingled with the thump of the push, and the crack of bone down a staircase.

The noise quiets slowly. Only once the noise has ended and the stairwell is peacefully silent, does Seth speak. “Well,” he murmurs, “I can’t say that I didn’t warn them. I do, after all, only like humans when I have them for dinner.”

There is a rasp over stone, and the camera descends the stairs in an unnaturally smooth motion. As the bright circles of light at the foot of the stairs draw closer, Seth speaks again, almost wistful. “My meals were so much nicer when my priests would slit the sacrifices throats before they threw them into my pit. Alas, not one of my meal guests has been so kind as to bring a knife with them, and my pit really does need to be cleaned out, so I suppose a quick trip down the stairs is the closest I can get.”

The foot of the stairs is reached. Liam and Kisha lie blank-eyed and bloodied on the ground. Their bodies are bent in ways that the human body is not meant to bend. The leftmost flashlight shines on the growing puddle of blood forming on the ground.

Freefall is reached once again, and this time, glass cracks as the camera hits the stone floor. Somewhere far above, Seth says, “What is it that the mortals say nowadays? Ah, yes, bon appétit.” Liam’s arm is removed from the ground and something large and scaled curls closer. The view is blocked as there is a wet crunch, a sucking tear, and then chewing noises.

The large scaled thing shifts again, and glass cracks as part of it lands on the camera. Metal audibly creaks under the weight, and then—abruptly, the color and sound bleed away and the world is once again dark and silent.

***

Amelie Dupont stares at the footage silently, then turns back to the police offers who had been watching it with her. She feels no better on the third watch than she had when Liam’s camera had still been streaming live and she’d been more interested in her nails than in what the remote shooting crew was recording.

Several of the police look grim and uneasy. The chief takes a deep breath, and says to Amelie, “Ma’am, this was very enlightening, but I need you to go over the details again. Not of the video but review the basics. One more time, just to make sure we have all the info we can get at this time.”

Amelie swallows convulsively, then begins again. “PBS does these documentaries, and reporter Kisha Donovan and cameraman Liam Potter, who is my—who was my—boyfriend were sent to an Aztec temple in the Amazon rainforest. Their shooting location was on the corner of the Bolivian-Peruvian-Brazilian border at—I forget what mile marker. Liam’s camera was outfitted with a livestream option so that I could monitor it and text him when to reshoot something. They got there just fine and Liam got the camera set up while Kisha talked to the only guy there, and they just—they just started rolling.” Amelie’s voice cracks on the last syllable.

She stops to dab at her eyes, afraid that she’s going to start sobbing hysterically again, as she had when she realized that what she was seeing was real. Lisbeth from the next station over had had to call 911 for her. For _her_ , and not for—

Lisbeth, sitting next to Amelie, pushes another tissue in her hand, and Amelie blows her nose. Over Amelie’s honking, Lisbeth says to the chief, “I don’t know why they went along with the guy. I mean, there wasn’t anyone else around that they could get secondary professional opinions on, so they shouldn’t have just started rolling like that. Maybe the others were going to show up later on during the shoot? But that Seth guy said that nobody else was there, so who knows.”

The chief says, “Why didn’t they ask for credentials? Numbers? Contact info of any kind?”

Lisbeth says, “All the screening for credentials was done ahead of time. If there was a last-minute change in interview status, then they shouldn’t have gone through with it. I don’t know why they didn’t.”

One of the police officers asks, “Is there anyway to know what might have been discussed prior to turning on the camera? It sounds like to me that they showed up, met some guy they weren’t supposed to at the site, and talked to him before starting to film.”

“No,” Amelie gasps, “no, they didn’t film or anything prior to the video we just watched. If Liam’s camera had turned on, I would have seen it. I’d been sitting there for a while, hadn’t gotten up or anything. They started half an hour late, even though Liam said they’d gotten there early.”

“But there’s no way to know what was being discussed prior to the film starting,” the chief repeats.

“No,” Amelie says, shaking her head. She loses the battle to her tears and starts sobbing again.

Lisbeth pulls her into a hug, and then tells the officers, “I was working on a different project, so I don’t have a copy of which people they were supposed to be interviewing. My manager would have a copy of that. If you want to talk to him, he’s just down the hall.”

The chief nods, and gestures to one of his subordinates, who leaves the room. “Thank you. We appreciate your cooperation. I’m going to need a copy of the video as well, though.”

“Yeah,” Lisbeth sighs, “I figured. Give me a moment.” She pulls away, taps at Amelie’s keyboard, and the video player closes.


End file.
